


Two Is a Company

by m_s_b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Platonic Relationships, implied mental health issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:46:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1731689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_s_b/pseuds/m_s_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets from lives of one Sebastian Moran and his flatmate James Moriarty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Literary Aspirations

**Author's Note:**

> My attempt at fanonical 'classical' MorMor. It feels a bit weird, writing something which isn't set in our AU, but I guess is a good exercise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian doesn't take criticism lightly.

James Moriarty let out a heavy sigh when he heard the front door closing with a slam. That would be it when it came to having some quality time with his chemical set. Being the consulting criminal was fun most of the time, but even he needed a break every now and then. Messing with people’s heads was always a good distraction, but people were ordinary, stupid and, really, reaaaally boring. Chemicals were much more interesting.

But that slam meant that Sebastian was back. And he was angry. It was probably about this stupid book of his. Jim rolled his eyes behind his safety glasses. Moran and his ridiculous literary aspiration.

‘James,’ came a yell from the hall, ‘James, where are you?’

‘Kitchen,’ he replied, shaking the test tube.

‘What on Earth would you be doin’ in there- Experimenting with chemicals? Really?’ Sebastian Moran peeked into the kitchen.

‘Yep,’ Jim observed residue slowly accumulating at the bottom of the tube, ‘Have something against it?’

‘Nope,’ Seb smirked, ‘Actually, we are really grateful, the couch and I.’

‘Ha ha ha,’ James quickly glanced at his friend, ‘So, what’s about the paper?’ He asked, gesturing with his head at the newspaper Sebastian was holding in his hand.

‘Oh, this?’ The blond slapped the paper against his thigh. ‘The review of my newest book has just come up.’

‘Aaand?’

‘And it is a total bullshit!’ Seb torn the paper open in one angry move. ‘“Moran’s new book, _Three Months in the Jungle_ , is a well-narrated adventure story which only flaw seems to be descriptions. The picture of nature he paints is undoubtedly captivating, but, unfortunately, not convincing-” Not convincing?!’ He slammed the newspaper against the worktop. ‘I grew up in fuckin’ India, I’d been in this jungle with my father several times. And this, this Joe Turner,’ the blond jabbed the newspaper with his finger, ‘I googled him. The furthest his fat arse’s ever been east is some McDonald’s in Newham. He doesn’t know a bloody thing about India and he dares to call my descriptions- James, what are you doing?’

‘Oh,’ Jim straightened up, but his eyes were still wandering around the room, ‘I’m looking for the fucks to give, but, unfortunately found none. Come on, Sebastian,’ he rolled his eyes noticing Seb’s pout, ‘that’s what critics do. They aren’t talented enough to write their own books so they criticise those who can. I know what I’m talking about,’ with a shrug James returned to his experiment.

‘Yeah, but he isn’t criticising me. He’s talking shit.’

‘Then kill him or something,’ Jim suggested, heating up the contents of the test tube using a Bunsen burner. Sebastian stared at him.

‘Jim, you can’t kill people because they disagree with you.’

‘Yes, you can,’ the smaller man singsonged, ‘That’s what I do. I have people killed when they disagree with me.’

‘Yeah,’ Seb folded his arms on his chest, ‘Or when they annoy you. Or when they bore you. Or when _you’re_ bored.’

‘Are you disagreeing with me, Sebastian?’ James shot him an angry glare.

‘No, of course not, Boss,’ Seb shook his head.

‘Good. Because I don’t like when people disagree with me. Now,’ Jim stated, returning to his experiment, ‘be a good boy and kill this Turner person, will you, dear?’

‘Wait, what?’ The blond frowned. ‘You want me to assassinate a guy because he gave my book three stars out of five?’

‘Exactly.’

‘I didn’t know that you have such a high opinion of my books, James,’ Sebastian smirked.

‘Don’t flatter yourself, Moran. I have no intention of wasting my time on your literary shenanigans,’ Jim growled, ‘The man irks me.’

‘He does?’

‘Yes. He annoys you,’ Jim explained in his lecturing voice, ‘You come here all annoyed and you annoy me. So he annoys me by extension. And I don’t like being annoyed, do you understand? Especially when I’m trying to enjoy my free time, as limited as it is. Is that clear?’

‘Crystal, boss,’ Seb nodded curtly.

‘Now go away and take care of the problem, Sebby. You bore me,’ James waved his hand in a manner that Sebastian immediately recognized as dismissal. The blond left the kitchen, changed into his working clothes and grabbed his rifle. When he was leaving, Jim was still in the kitchen, playing with colourful liquids and humming one of these classical pieces he loved so much.

 

Getting rid of Joe Turner was a child’s play. The man was surprisingly easy to track down and even easier to eliminate. Sebastian put the bullet through his head when the critic was masturbaiting to some Japanese porno cartoon. Oh irony.

The sniper packed his rifle slowly, whistling a cheerful tone. The job put him in a really good mood. No-one unjustly criticised his books, no-one. Well, maybe except for Jim, but his boss was always off-limits. Still whistling, Sebastian went downstairs and ran on the street, easily merging with the crowd. He was feeling a bit high, a spring in his steep as he walked his usual route to James’ loft.

Taking two steps at a time, Seb reached the top floor surprisingly quickly. He fished out his keys from the pocket and unlocked the door. Ringing the doorbell or knocking was pointless - Jim, the stubborn five-year-old he was, never answered; Sebastian learnt it the hard way during his first week of living with James. The blond slid into the hall and toed off his shoes.

‘James, I’m back,’ he announced as he made his way to the living room, ‘This job was a piece-’

What he saw in the living room stopped Sebastian in his track. James Moriarty, the great criminal mastermind who could bring the nation to its knees with a snap of his fingers, was sprawled on the couch, a tiger blanket, the one he bought Sebastian as a ‘funny birthday present’, draped over his legs. Smiling to himself, Seb approached the couch and put the blanket over Jim’s sleeping form, tucking him in. As he pulled the soft material over his boss, something felt on the floor with a low thud. Sebastian bent down and picked up the book Jim must have been reading before he fell asleep. He glanced at the title and grinned. It was a copy of _Three Months in the Jungle_ he gave to James.

‘“Don’t flatter yourself, Moran,”’ he mimicked Jim’s Irish lilt, ‘My arse, Jim. You’re just too proud to admit that you like stupid stories for ordinary people, aren’t you?’

James snored lightly and turned on his side.

Shaking his head and smiling to himself, Seb put the book on the coffee table and padded to the kitchen. He was starving and all that he needed now was a bowl of spicy curry.


	2. Personal Courtesy?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim thinks Sebastian's insistence on writing books is stupid and unnecessary. After years of working with Jim, Seb knows that having some pocket money can make the difference between life and death.

‘Why do you insist on harbouring that ridiculous notion of yours to write novels?’ Jim asked during breakfast. He was in the middle of his routine of reading morning editions of all the newspapers he could laid his hands on. Seb glanced at him and shovelled another forkful of bacon into his mouth.

‘Ib’s nob ribiculous,’ he mumbled, chewing on crispy meat.

‘Manners, Sebby,’ James tutted and turned the page, his eyes still fixed on the newspaper, ‘One could think that you were raised in the barn, not in the residence of an old and notable British family.’

Seb swallowed and took a big sip of coffee.

‘It’s not a “ridiculous notion”, James,’ he explained, ‘I enjoy doing it. And it’s as good occupation as any other.’

‘Why do you need an occupation?’ Jim frowned, lowering the paper. ‘You already have one. You work for me, Sebastian.’

Seb let out a heavy sigh and put the fork down next to his plate.

‘I kill people for you, Jim,’ he stated matter-of-factly, entwining his fingers, ‘And you don’t pay me for that.’

‘I don’t?’ James looked truly confused.

‘You don’t,’ the blond nodded, ‘I do it, as you beautifully put it, out of personal courtesy, because we are friends for so long. It’s a good exercise, though. Keeps me in shape.’

The smaller man observed him for a moment, tapping his finger against his lips.

‘Oh, now I remember,’ he smiled, ‘Personal courtesy. But you still don’t need to work, Sebby. You have money.’

‘Nope,’ Sebastian took a sip of his coffee, ‘My father does.’

‘But you said you have a trust?’ Jim frowned.

‘Still my father’s money,’ Seb cleared his plate with a piece of toast, ‘And he can revoke his will anytime he wants.’

‘So,’ James folded the newspaper neatly, ‘you write these books of yours because you’re afraid that your father will cut you off?’

Sebastian threw him an angry glare.

‘It’s good to be independent,’ he stated firmly as he stood up and put his plate in the sink, ‘I should have known that you’re going to bitch about it, Jim.’

‘I’m not bitching,’ the smaller man huffed, ‘I just find it amusing.’

‘And how’s that not bitching?’

‘Call it what you want, Sebastian,’ James waved his hand nonchalantly, ‘At least I don’t have to use smoke and mirrors to get what I want.’

Seb sighed and shook his head.

‘Don’t want to burst your bubble, Jim, but that’s what you do. On daily basis.’

‘Meh, that’s business,’ Jim rolled his eyes, ‘and we’re talking about private life, aren’t we? You have to admit, Seb, that I never-’

‘That’s not the same, believe me,’ Sebastian turned on the tap; the dishes weren’t going to wash themselves up and he couldn’t count on Jim’s help.

‘Tomato tomato,’ James shrugged, ‘My point is that I’ve never had to ask anyone for money-’

‘Except for Munich, that is,’ Seb smirked to himself, scrubbing the frying pan.

Jim straightened up a bit and cleared his throat.

‘What about Munich?’ He asked casually, but Sebastian could hear a slight note of surprise in his friend’s voice.

‘You really don’t remember? One of our first assignments.’

‘Nope,’ Jim crossed his legs, ‘still don’t remember.’

Seb’s smirk widened. Jim was an exceptionally good liar, but the blond knew him for too long.

‘Oh really?’ Sebastian dried the frying pan with a paper towel, put it on the cooker and turned to face the smaller man. ‘You don’t remember our first international business? It cost us loads of money and the last few quids founded plane tickets to Munich. But it was fine, because we were about to earn twice as much.’

‘Oh, now I remember,’ James smiled, ‘Drugs - always the lucrative business.’

‘Well, it certainly would be,’ Seb arched his eyebrow, ‘if you hadn’t killed our contractors. We were left without drugs AND without money. I had to call my father so we could return to London.’

‘Things like this happen in our line of business, Sebastian.’

‘I know they do, James. But back then we were so broke that my father had to cover all our expenses: rent, groceries, everything. And now you’re surprised that I want to have some money for myself. Working with such an irresponsible consulting criminal?’

‘They double-crossed me, Seb!’ Jim jumped on his feet, his face flushed red with anger, ‘No-one double-crosses ME!’

‘You could at least wait with your little murder spree until they handed us drugs,’ Sebastian stated calmly, but it only seemed to enrage Jim even more.

‘They didn’t have drugs with them! I heard them whispering between themselves before they noticed us.’

‘And if I remember correctly,’ Seb crossed his arms on his chest, ‘your command of German is far from perfection.’

Jim’s face turned from red to pale. He opened his mouth and closed it quickly, unsure what to say. Sebastian smirked: seeing the great Jim Moriarty speechless was priceless, even if it lasted only half a minute.

‘Fuck you, Moran,’ James spat finally, turned on his heel and left the kitchen.

Seb’s smirked transformed into a full grin. Taunting Jim was as safe as walking on a very narrow plank over the tank full of man-eating sharks, but getting his back felt really good.


	3. Working Playlist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian and Jim may not meet eye to eye when it comes to music, but at least they both find annoying each other funny.

Taking two steps at the time, Sebastian reached the top floor in a record time. He let himself into the loft he and Jim had been sharing for years, toeing off his shoes in the hall as he headed to the living room. In one swift movement, Seb threw his jacket and bag on the pristine white couch. He knew that James was going to bitch about this later, but he didn’t really care: for someone who never disgraced himself with cleaning, Jim was making a lot snarky remarks about the cleanness of their living space. Talk of the devil, Seb could hear his friend rummaging around in one of the upstairs room, whistling a tune which, if Seb’s guess was correct, was one of Blondie’s songs.

Running his hand through his hair, Sebastian went to the kitchen. He was almost done with his lunch when Jim walked into the room. Well, ‘waltzed’ would be a better word.

‘Sebby!’ He exclaimed, his brown eyes widening slightly in surprise. ‘You’re back already? I didn’t hear you coming.’

‘I would be a lousy assassin if I let people know of my presence, wouldn’t I?’

Jim giggled. He seemed oddly relaxed, the impression strengthened by his ‘stay-at-home’ clothes – a pair of starry pyjama bottoms and this ridiculous Tesla T-shirt.

‘So,’ James lent on the kitchen surface, ‘how did the job go?’

Sebastian only shrugged.

‘Good, I suppose. Went pretty smoothly.’

Jim made a face.

‘It wouldn’t hurt you to give me some details, you know,’ he said in a hurt tone and made a beeline for coffee. He breathed the rich aroma, took a small sip and winced.

‘There’s one thing, though,’ Seb observed Jim adding three teaspoons of sugar into his coffee.

‘Yes?’ The smaller man asked, sitting on the barstool opposite to the blond. He took another sip of his coffee and this time sighed with content.

‘Do you know what happened to my playlist?’

Jim blinked once. It was quick, almost unnoticeable, but Sebastian recognized it immediately. This cunning little fuck.

‘What playlist?’ James asked innocently and took another sip.

‘My working playlist,’ Seb drummed his fingers against the kitchen surface, ‘You know, the one I listen to when I torture and kill people.’

‘That’s pretty morbid, you know.’

‘Don’t change the topic, James,’ the blond barked, ‘I know you did it, I can see through your poker face right into your guilty conscience.’

‘Yeah, okay, I did. Happy?’ Jim rolled his eyes. ‘But your working playlist is sooo boring, Seb. Only jazz, smooth jazz and even more jazz. It lacked edge.’

‘So you decided that replacing jazz with a mix of 70s, 80s and 90s music will give it edge?’ Sebastian folded his arms on his chest. ‘Isn’t it enough that you torture me with your music at home? ABBA is bearable, but Modern Talking, really?’

‘Shut your face, Sebastian,’ James replied with poisonous sweetness. He emptied his mug and put it on the kitchen surface. ‘As a person with a horrible musical taste you have no right to speak. And I’ve change your playlist so now it fits your job.’

‘Excuse me, your highness,’ Seb said mockingly, bowing his head slightly, ‘but how on earth does _Every Breath You Take_ fit my job? I’m not a fucking stalker, Jim, I don’t go through people’s rubbish, I don’t leave dead animals and notes on their doorsteps.’

‘No, you just observe them and then kill them.’

‘I gather information,’ Sebastian corrected, ‘learn about their daily routines and all this without a creepy factor. That’s your department,’ he added. Jim smiled crookedly at him.

‘Ha ha ha, very funny,’ he slid from the barstool and padded to the living room. Leaving dirty dishes on the kitchen surface, Sebastian followed his friend. He wasn’t going to let it go, not this time.

James turned on the telly and fell back on the couch, pushing aside Seb’s things.

‘Sebastian, when will you learn to put your things in their right place? You’re turning my flat into a pigsty with your stupid need to mark your territory,’ he mumbled angrily and waved his hand, ‘Now, move on, you’re blocking the view.’

His hands on his hips, Sebastian didn’t move an inch.

‘You know that _Killing Me Softly_ isn’t really about killing?’

‘I’m not an idiot, Seb,’ Jim rolled his eyes, ‘I just thought it would be funny to add it to your playlist.’

The blond arched his eyebrow.

‘Did you throw in _Macarena_ too?’

James smirked.

‘You didn’t listen to it till the end?’ He pressed his hand to his chest and asked, his voice dripping with mock hurt. Seb shook his head; with Jim it was always all about theatrics. ‘I’m really hurt, Sebastian.’

‘And _I Just Died In Your Arms_ isn’t really about dying either,’ Seb continued, ‘Have you ever heard about _la petite mort_?’

‘You know that I don’t speak French, Seb,’ James rolled his eyes with exasperated sigh.

‘Then I’ll enlighten you. It means “little death” and refers to, well, a climax.’

Jim stared at him blankly for a moment.

‘So what?’ He said finally. ‘It’s not that most people know about it.’

‘True,’ Seb nodded, ‘but you should see Johnson’s face as it started playing in the background when I was just about to pull out his teeth with pincers. I don’t know who was more surprised and disturbed – me or him.’

‘I hope you didn’t show that,’ Jim tilted his head, his eyes fixed on his friend. Sebastian smirked.

‘I’m a professional, James. I can control myself.’

‘Good,’ the smaller man entwined his fingers, ‘he will learn not to mess with me,’ he added, grinning broadly.

‘Sure, Jimmy. Always glad to help,’ Seb nodded and walked to the kitchen, finally letting Jim watch the telly in peace, ‘Oh, and James?’ He glanced at his friend over his shoulder.

‘Yes?’ Jim mumbled, switching quickly between channels.

‘You know that it means war, right?’

Sebastian disappeared in the kitchen before he could see James’ toothy grin.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see, but I'm finally home. One thing though - spending some time on the countryside really does miracles to one's motivation and inspiration,


	4. Masquerade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,  
> That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,  
> And then is heard no more. It is a tale  
> Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,  
> Signifying nothing.
> 
> -Macbeth Act 5, scene 5, 24–28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, forgive my feverish, rambling brain.
> 
> Also, lovely [teehewz](http://teehewz.tumblr.com) made [a wonderful illustration for this chapter.](https://31.media.tumblr.com/ef97c765715bd19a2002ec429e864332/tumblr_n8ntkuKyUx1qfrce9o3_r1_500.png)

‘Jesus fucking Christ, Jim,’ Sebastian ran his hand across his face, ‘why do you always have to pull some shit like this?’

‘Like what?’ James asked, drumming his fingers against his tight as he looked through the window.

‘Like hiring that guy to pretend to be you while you played a homeless guy who just happened to stumble upon the meeting of two criminals discussing business.’

Jim smiled toothily.

‘I just wanted to show Handerson what will happen to him, his family and his dog if he even think of informing authorities,’ the last word was said with a disdain only Jim Moriarty could muster, ‘about me or the offer I gave him. But don’t worry, Sebby,’ James patted Sebastian’s tight, ‘you played your part really well - silent and intimidating, just what we needed. Pity we couldn’t see Handerson’s face when I cried as you pretended to torture me-’

‘We watched everything on the monitors, Jim,’ Seb reminded him.

‘It’s not half as funny as seeing it with your own eyes, Sebastian. I only managed to catch a glimpse of his face before you dragged me out from the warehouse,’ Jim sighed theatrically, ‘He was so delightfully frightened, his face white and sweaty.’

‘Well, maybe you should stay inside if you don’t want to miss the show,’ the blond commented drily, his eyes fixed on the road. Jim and his stupid ideas would drive him mad one day.

‘Don’t get all smartass on me, Sebastian,’ Jim slapped the other man’s arm, ‘Doing the same thing all the time is boring. A little performance from time to time ensues that no-one gets close to me and even you have to admit that that’s the most important thing.’

‘Agreed,’ Sebastian nodded. Jim’s safety was always his priority. ‘But did you have to,’ he was silent for a moment, trying to find the right words, ‘get in your role so much? You stink, James,’ the comment earned him an angry glare.

‘A good actor can play any given role convincingly, but only an idiot would ignore a bit of realism given by a good characterisation, even if it means getting one’s hands dirty. Speaking of which,’ James turned his head and looked through the window, ‘I have a job for you.’

‘I’m all ears.’

‘You need to get rid of that actor. It’s a real shame, he is really good, but-’

‘No loose end,’ Sebastian finished.

‘Exactly,’ Jim waved his hand elegantly, ‘Use one of our emergency packet, will you, Sebby?’

Seb nodded. The emergency packet was their stash of carefully calculated plans for committing murders so they looked like accidents or suicides. Jim drew the schemes himself, so they were almost perfect. Well, Jim said that they were perfect, but Sebastian didn’t believe in absolutes.

‘Then it’s settled,’ James smiled, ‘Now speed up a bit, darling. I need a long, hot shower,’ he smelled the t-shirt he was wearing and wrinkled his nose, ‘and incinerate these clothes.’

~*~

Whistling, Sebastian walked home slowly. He was sure that when someone discovers actor’s body, everyone would assume that it was a tragic accident - the man really, _really_ shouldn’t try to move that big heavy bookcase by himself.

Taking the next turn left, Seb sent Jim a text message informing him that the job was done. Putting his phone back into his pocket, he remembered Jim’s words. _It’s a real pity, he is really good._ Though most of his decisions were dictated by his practical sense and self-preservation instinct (and sometimes by anger), it didn’t mean that James didn’t appreciate a good craftsmanship, especially since he was quite a talented actor himself. Sebastian thought that it was partially because Jim was an excellent liar and partially because he was a social chameleon - he observed people, read them like books and then put what he learnt in practice, mimicking and creating the whole array of masks.

When they met, long, long time ago in Oxford where they both studied, Jim was a member of university dramatic society. During the hours they had spent at his place, Seb would tousle the other man’s black hair and call him a sensation - after all a Physics undergraduate playing in the theatre was something unusual. But then being unusual has always been normal for James.

Through his years at university Jim played in several performances. His small roles in _Vinegar Tom_ , _Riders to the Sea_ , _Pygmalion_ and _Doctor Faustus_ soon transformed into something bigger. Before he graduated, James was Ron in _Masterpieces,_ Owen in _Translations,_ Moon in _The Real Inspector Hound_ , Shawn in _The Playboy of the Western World_ and Father Welsh in _The Lonesome West_. His most memorable role, though, was that of Hamlet; he even played him in student production of _Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead_. Ironic, because Jim really hated Hamlet.

‘He’s weak and indecisive, Seb,’ he explained when their had their traditional bottle of beer after the dress rehearsal, ‘I’m surprised that he isn’t killed earlier. In real life he would be dead by the end of Act One,’ he added, taking another sip of his beer. Seb nodded. He agreed with his friend, but he couldn’t deny that he understood why it was him who was given the role. James looked a bit Hamlet-esque.

Sebastian shook his head, smiling to himself. The problems they had back then... Glancing at his watch, he decided to take a shortcut between Soho clubs. He passed by a group of tired clubbers smoking on the pavement. Their colourful outfits reminded him of Lady Macbeth. The corner of Sebastian’s mouth twitched slightly.

One year the dramatic society decided to return to the traditions of modern English theatre and to perform _Macbeth_ the way it would had been performed in 1607. To Sebastian’s surprise, Jim wanted to play Lady Macbeth.

‘I’d rather be Lady Macbeth than Macbeth,’ he stated shrugging his shoulders when Seb asked him about it. Sebastian decided not to push him about it anymore. Jim got the role, but it wasn’t until the premiere that Seb understood what his friend meant. James didn’t play Lady Macbeth, in a way he _was_ Lady Macbeth and his interpretation of the sleepwalking scene left the audience flabbergasted.

‘In a way I sympathise with her,’ was the only comment Jim made about his performance.

Sebastian nodded.

‘It’s the new level of uncanny, James.’

The two of them were already quite a pair back then, Seb thought, shaking his head.

Finally, he reached the building housing their flat. He checked his mobile before entering, but there was still no reply from James. Sebastian shrugged; it wasn’t something uncommon, really - Jim had a very annoying habit of ignoring his text messages. Seb pocketed his phone and slowly climbed upstairs.

The whole flat was enveloped in darkness and strangely quiet. Suddenly alerted, Sebastian blinked a few times, letting his eyes adjust. The whole situation put his senses on edge. Speaking of professional bias.

‘Jim?’ He asked loudly, but there was no response. ‘Jim, if you’re going to attack or jump on me again, I swear to God, I’ll kick your skinny arse,’ Sebastian tightened grip on his handgun as he slipped through the living room. Pulling out his gun, he carefully climbed the stairs leading to the upper storey of their flat; soft glow of light was coming out from Jim’s bedroom. Seb lowered his gun and quietly moved across the corridor to his friend’s room. What he saw there brought a smile on his face.

His head lolled on one side, Jim was sleeping, snoring lightly from time to time. Sebastian put his gun away and sat on the bed next to Jim, picking up the book he must have been reading before he fell asleep. Slowly, not to wake the other man up, he took off Jim’s reading glasses (James threw a horrible tantrum when the eye doctor told him that was going to need ones and threatened Sebastian to rip off his tongue if he ever told anyone about it) and put them on the bedside table. Seb smiled, delicately brushing dark hair off his friend’s forehead. Living with James gave him a feeling of domesticity, even if most of the time it was more like sharing your living space with a deadly cobra.

Jim stirred and his eyes fluttered open.

‘Sebby,’ he smiled sleepily, ‘you’re back.’

‘Yeah,’ Seb replied softly, ‘I sent you a message, but I think you were asleep already.’

‘How did the job go?’

‘Quick. I asked tech guys to swap the CCTV footage.’

‘That’s good...’ James yawned and smacked his lips. Sebastian’s smile widened.

‘I’m not going to disturb you your beauty sleep, Lady Macbeth.’

Jim giggled weakly.

‘I was wonderful, wasn’t it?’

‘You were incredible, Jimmy,’ Seb kissed his forehead, ‘You were incredible.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *   
> _Vinegar Tom_ by Charyl Churchill - a feminist play dealing with the unfairness and cruelty of witch hunts.  
> 
>   
> 
> *   
>  _Masterpieces_ by Sarah Daniels - a feminist play discussing the role and impact of pornography on human life.  
> 
>   
> 
> *   
>  _Translations_ by Brian Friel - a play about language and not only. One of my favourite contemporary plays.  
> 
>   
> 
> *   
>  _The Lonesome West_ by Martin McDonagh - the conflict between two brothers escalates when they confess to each other their wrongdoings. I may be mistaken, but I think that Andrew Scott played Father Welsh in one of stage adaptations.  
> 
>   
> 
> *   
>  _The Real Inspector Hound_ by Tom Stoppard - a brilliant variation on classic whodunit play.  
> 
>   
> 
> *   
>  _Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead_ by Tom Stoppard - remember Rosencrantz and Guilderstern from Shakespeare's _Hamlet_? They are main characters here; a wonderful film adaptation made by Stoppard himself.  
> 
>   
> 
> *   
>  _The Playboy of the Western World_ by J. M. Synge - the story of the clash between storytelling and reality. Considered so offensive and insulting, that it caused riots in Dublin.  
> 
>   
> 
> *   
>  _Riders to the Sea_ by J. M. Synge - a simple one-act play portraying the people's struggle with the impersonal cruelty of the sea.  
> 
>   
> 
> *   
>  _Doctor Faustus_ by Christopher Marlowe - a play based on the German story of Faust, the man who sold his soul to the devil for power and knowledge. A real hit in 1590s.  
> 
>   
> 
> *   
>  _Pygmalion_ by George Bernard Shaw - social criticism presented on the background of a romantic comedy. Is impeccable speech enough to turn a Cockney flower girl into a duchess?
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _Disclaimer: I'm fully aware that my short summaries of the plays are not particularly precise, but I don't want to spoil them for anyone.__  
>     
> Also I use the term **modern English theatre** instead of Elizabethan theatre as _Macbeth_ was first performed around 1607 which places it in Jacobean theatre.  
> 


	5. In Sickness and in Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a few things which can make Jim say what he really thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, this fic went a bit out of control - before I realized it was over 2000 words.
> 
> Anyway, I want to dedicate it to teehewz, who is the best beta ever, and to jessjessbc, who gave me idea for this fic.

‘What the hell, James?!’ Sebastian dropped his bag just in time to catch Jim’s coat the man threw at him. ‘You can’t hang your own coat now?’

‘Well, I don’t really have to since I have you to do this for me,’ James waved his hand nonchalantly and waltzed into the kitchen. Mumbling under his nose something about ‘spoiled Irish bastards’, Seb hung the coat in the wardrobe.

They had just returned from a two-day business trip to Warsaw, where Jim met with his Polish, Russian and Ukrainian cooperatives (‘They’ll find a common language really quickly. It will go smoothly, believe me Sebby,’ he said when Sebastian asked him if it was necessary to have so many people involved).

‘Poland is a perfect transition country for smuggling drugs and other goods,’ Jim explained Seb on their way to the airport. ‘Once the goods pass the eastern border, they can flow freely into the West. Of course,’ he added, ‘someone has to plan it, but that’s a child play,’ he giggled, ‘We will have to make concessions to our friends on the Continent, though,’ James frowned slightly, ‘They want to do a little of human trafficking on the side. I don’t really like it, it’s nasty and problematic,’ Sebastian nodded silently, ‘Maybe I will allow them to use my smuggling route, but tell them I’ll wash my hands of in case of a screw up?’ Jim tapped his chin. ‘I have to think about it.’

Just as James predicted, everything went smoothly: their cooperatives reached an agreement in a surprisingly short time and eagerly agreed on Jim’s conditions regarding human trafficking. They sealed the deal with a shot of vodka which made both of them wince. The only thing the great Jim Moriarty wasn’t able to predict was the weather.

When they got off the plane, the icy air pierced through their clothes, pinching their skin. James cursed in Gaelic and rubbed his arms, trying to warm himself up a bit. On their way to the city centre they saw people on the bus stops, hurling around big metal baskets filled with burning coal as they waited for a bus.

‘God,’ Jim mumbled looking through the window of their rented limo, ‘how cold it has to be outside?’

‘-25 Celcius,’ Seb provided, ‘We’ve just passed one of these digital thermometers.’

James shuddered.

‘I thought we weren’t going to Siberia.’

‘Well,’ Sebastian grumbled, ‘you could have checked the weather here, couldn’t you? You always brag about your hacking skills and yet you didn’t even bother to check the weather in Poland.’

Jim threw him an angry glance, the one which said ‘you’re going to regret it later’. Apparently this time had come.

Wondering why he was still putting up with it, Sebastian picked up his bag and carried it upstairs, leaving Jim in the kitchen. Someone had to take care of their laundry and, although James was fully capable of doing that - Seb suspected that he even liked it to a small degree - he had no intention of giving Seb a helping hand this time.

When he finally returned to the kitchen, Jim wasn’t there anymore. He did leave a mess behind him, though. It didn’t really surprise Sebastian.

‘He’s probably in his room, sulking,’ cleaning the kitchen surface, Seb mumbled to himself, ‘Excuse me, _working_. A little prat.’

He quickly took care of the kitchen and moved to making lunch. He was draining pasta when James walked to the room and perched on one of the high stools.

‘I have a job for you,’ he stated simply, observing Sebastian mixing lime and orange juice with olive oil. Seb glanced at him over his shoulder.

‘Can’t it wait? I want to eat my lunch.’

‘No,’ James shook his head, ‘I need you to go to Morocco as quickly as possible. There’s the competition to take care of.’

Seb clenched his teeth; his patience was really wearing thin and he was tad close from snapping at Jim. Taking a deep breath, he returned to his pasta salad. Maybe he should go, though - get some rest from Jim and his childish behaviour. And Morocco was quite nice at this time of a year…

‘Seb?’ Jim’s stare was burning a hole at the back of his head. Sebastian sighed.

‘Yeah, sure. I’ll just eat my lunch, pack myself and I’ll be ready.’

James jumped off the stool and straightened his jacket.

‘The file will be waiting for you in the living room,’ he said, turned on his heel and left.

 

Sebastian got off the plane from Morocco and wrapped a scarf tighter around his neck. After sunny and warm Agadir, London seemed even gloomier and colder. He sent Jim a text message saying that he was back in the good old country and hailed the cab.

Three days, Seb thought, looking at the moving cityscape. He was away for three days and the city already felt a bit different. The job itself didn’t take him that long, though. He quickly found a drug lord who thought that it was a smart move to antagonize James Moriarty. Eliminating the man was surprisingly easy: he was on holidays, trying to escape the unpleasantness of European winter. The sun and warmth lowered his guard and made him an easy target. Sebastian smirked. Stupid son of a bitch.

With the job wrapped up in one day, Seb could be home within hours, but he didn’t feel like going back. He decided to stay a bit longer: go to the beach, maybe eat a tajine in a small restaurant. He hadn’t been on holidays for ages and he definitely needed some time away from James. To be honest, they both need some ‘me time’. And he didn’t have to worry about Jim - he was more self-reliant than he let people believe. Although, it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t blow the kitchen up because he was bored or wanted to punish Seb. Or both.

The ride back home was long enough for Sebastian to start to adjust to new conditions. He didn’t feel so cold anymore, but the only thing he could think of was a hot shower. The cab finally pulled in; Seb paid the driver and, not waiting for the change, he got off from the car, entered the building and climbed upstairs.

‘James, I’m back,’ he said loudly, taking off his scarf and coat and putting them into the closet, ‘It wouldn’t hurt you to answer my text, you know,’ he toed off his shoes and moved into the living room, ‘Anyway, this job was a child’s play. If I didn’t know you I would say-’

‘Sebastian?’ Came a weak reply from the couch.

Seb stopped for a moment and then quickly headed to the couch. Jim sounded… ill. And ill Jim was never a good thing. If he had a mild cold, he would whine like a child, sneezing, coughing and throwing used tissues at Sebastian, constantly demanding his attention. However, when seriously ill, the man would pretend (quite convincingly) that everything was alright and that he didn’t need any help. Thankfully, Seb always saw through Jim’s assurances. Well, almost always. The one time he didn’t, it ended really badly for both of them and Sebastian learnt quickly - in his line of work one couldn’t make the same mistake twice.

Seb looked down at James, who was half-sitting, half-lying on a couch. He didn’t look good: his cheeks flushed red, his usually perfectly styled hair messy and damp with sweat. He was wearing an oversized woolly jumper and a pair of thick socks.

‘You’re back,’ Jim mumbled, looking at Sebastian with glassy eyes.

‘Yeah, I’ve sent you a text.’

Jim glanced around the room, slightly confused.

‘I don’t know where my phone is,’ he sniffled.

Seb sighed.

‘James, you’re ill.’

‘No,’ the man mumbled, shaking his head tiredly, ‘I’m okay, Seb. Just tired.’

‘Really?’ Sebastian delicately put his hand on Jim’s forehead. ‘Because you look- Jesus, you’re burnt up!’

‘I’m fine-’

‘When did it start?’

‘Seb...’ James whined.

‘When?’ Seb repeated, a dangerous undertone in his voice. Jim sighed.

‘I don’t know, two days ago?’

‘What?’ Worried, Sebastian quickly circled the couch and crouched next to his friend. ‘You’ve been feverish for two bloody days?’

‘But it only got so bad today,’ James mumbled, pulling the sleeves of his jumper over his hands, ‘And, and I took care of it.’

‘Apparently not good enough,’ Seb stated and helped Jim on his feet, ‘Come on, let’s get you to bed. You need some proper rest.’

 

‘You should’ve called me the moment you felt a bit off,’ Sebastian said, pulling the jumper through Jim’s head.

‘You were on the job,’ James murmured, sliding under a thin blanket.

Seb sighed, shaking his head.

‘You know, your pride will be the death of you,’ he folded the jumper and put it on the armchair, ‘I’ll get everything and will be back in a minute. Just don’t leave the bed or I will tie you to it. I’m not joking, James,’ he added, when Jim, slightly annoyed, rolled his eyes.

Sebastian took a thermometer and a bottle of aspirin from a bathroom cabinet. After a brief moment of hesitation he filled a small bowl with cool water and threw in several towels. Even if Jim’s temperature wasn’t dangerously high, it wouldn’t hurt to cool him down a bit. Taking everything, Seb returned to Jim’s bedroom.

‘I’m cold,’ Jim whined when he saw him, ‘Why did you take away my duvet?’

‘Jesus, Jim, we’ve been through it. You shouldn’t overheat yourself. I’ll give you one if you get chills. Now,’ Sebastian sit on the edge of the bed, ‘let’s take your temperature, okay?’

James nodded slowly. He was tired, he felt both hot and cold at the same and all he wanted to do was to bury under a blanket and sleep throughout this stupid illness.

The thermometer beeped a few times. Seb took it out of Jim’s mouth and checked the result.

‘39°- it’s not as bad as I thought,’ he frowned, ‘but you’re going to stay in bed, mister. No work for you for some time. I’ve brought you some aspirin,’ he added, handing a small bottle to Jim, who opened it after a brief struggle, ‘Just get one, it should lower your fever. Here,’ Sebastian took a pitcher from Jim’s nightstand and poured some water into a tall glass, ‘wash it down.’

Uncharastically obedient, Jim nodded, swallowed the pill and fell back on the pillows. Sebastian eyed him worryingly. He must be really ill, he thought, pressing one of the wet towels to Jim’s forehead.

‘Now try to get some rest, okay?’ Seb delicately patted his friend’s hand. ‘I’ll be in the kitchen. Just call me if you’ll need anything,’ James nodded slightly, mumbling something incoherent in response. ‘I’ll check your temperature again in two hours,’ Sebastian stood up and quietly left the room, leaving the door open.

 

‘Sebby?’ James mumbled, his eyes still closed.

‘Yeah?’ Sebastian straightened in the armchair and rubbed his eye. He must have dozed off for a moment. He had been sitting here and watching over his friend for over four hours. Jim’s temperature didn’t get higher (which was good), but it didn’t get lower either (which wasn’t so good). Seb changed towels several times and tried to feed some broth to Jim, but the man didn’t feel like eating. Well, maybe it was for the best - sometimes it was better to starve the fever off.

‘I’m really worried, you know,’ Jim continued, his voice tired, ‘When you go on a job somewhere far, far away and I’m not with you,’ Seb stared at him, unsure what to say, ‘I’m scared that something will happen to you and I wouldn’t be there to help you. I don’t want anything bad happen to you, Seb,’ James added tearfully.

‘I know, Jimmy,’ Sebastian scrambled on his feet, took the thermometer and sat next to his friend, ‘I know. I’ll just take your temperature now, okay?’ He delicately stroked Jim’s hair.

‘40.3°,’ Seb said later when the thermometer beeped, ‘let’s try to cool you a bit, shall we?’ He helped James out of the bed and into the bathroom. He adjusted water temperature and tried to take off Jim’s T-shirt.

‘No, Sebby,’ Jim protested weakly, trying to bat Seb’s hands away, ‘I don’t want to.’

‘Shh, Jimmy,’ Sebastian delicately stroked James’ back, ‘It will help you, I promise. Now,’ he took off Jim’s T-shirt and pyjama bottoms, ‘it won’t last long, really,’ he helped his friend into the bathtub.

‘Sebastian,’ James mumbled when Seb poured some cool water over his back and hair, ‘Sebastian, promise me you won’t die, okay? Don’t die, Sebby, I don’t want you to die.’

‘Of course, Jimmy,’ Seb assured his friend, rubbing Jim’s neck delicately, ‘I have no intention of dying any time soon, I promise.’

‘Good,’ Jim murmured. Sebastian only nodded and poured more water on James’ hair.

‘Seb,’ James mumbled a bit later. Seb had dried his hair with a soft towel and helped him put a fresh T-shirt. ‘Seb, I do like your books, you know. I know I always criticise them, but it doesn’t mean I don’t like them.’

‘I know, Jim,’ Sebastian smiled to himself. He remembered catching Jim reading one of his books.

‘No, really,’ James took him by the wrist, ‘I really like them. I just don’t want you know that. You’d laugh at me if I said I like them,’ he explained and sunk back on the bed.

‘Of course I wouldn’t,’ Seb tucked him in, ‘Get some sleep, James.’

 

‘Sebby, why are you still here?’ Jim asked, his voice hoarse from sleep. He was curled under a blanket, facing Sebastian. The man glanced at him over the edge of the book he was reading.

‘Well,’ Seb put the book on the nightstand, ‘I’m taking care of you. And I live here, don’t I?’

‘No, but why are you still _here?_ With me?’

‘We’re friends, James,’ Seb stated simply, ‘That’s what friends do - look after each other.’

Jim looked at him tiredly. His temperature lowered slightly, but Seb didn’t see any difference in his behaviour.

‘I’m so mean to you, Seb. I, I yell at you and throw things at you...’

‘Professional hazard, I suppose,’ Sebastian shrugged, ‘Look, Jim, I know that you don’t mean it. Most of it, that is, because I’m pretty sure sometimes you mean every single word you say. What can I say,’ he smiled slightly, ‘apparently I’m a bit of a masochist.’

James sighed.

‘I like you, Sebby,’ he closed his eyes, ‘but emotions are so, so complicated and difficult and, and...’

‘I know.’

 

Aspirin didn’t help and neither cool baths and wet towels did. Even feeding Jim with cold food and herbal teas didn’t seem to work. Sebastian was slowly running out of ideas and Jim’s fever didn’t get any lower. Seb sighed. There was only one thing he could do and James wasn’t going to be happy about it.

‘Jim,’ he sat at the edge of Jim’s bed and shook him by the arm. The man slowly opened his eyes and looked at him, confused. ‘Jim, I’ll call for a doctor, okay?’

‘No,’ James whined, hiding his face in his arms, ‘I don’t want see a doctor.’

‘Jim, you have a very high fever and nothing I tried seem to work,’ Sebastian tried to reason with him, but Jim shook his head.

‘No, I don’t want to,’ he repeated, ‘I don’t. They would give me pills again. I don’t want their pills, Sebby. I don’t like their pills. They slow me down.’

‘James, no-one will-’

A pair of thin arms closed around Seb’s waist and Jim pressed his face to his chest. Sebastian looked at his friend, surprised.

‘Jim-’

‘I don’t trust them, Sebby,’ James mumbled, hugging Seb tighter, ‘I only trust you. You will help me, won’t you? You always help me. You’ve saved my life so many times. Please, Sebby...’

‘Sure, Jimmy,’ Sebastian delicately patted his friend back, ‘I will help you.’

‘And you won’t let them hurt me?’ Came a quiet question.

‘Never ever, Jim,’ Seb nodded, ‘If they want you, they’re gonna have to fight me first.’

 

Sebastian jumped on his feet, ready to attack. Confused, he looked around the room and then on the floor. One of Jim’s pillows was laying on his feet. Weird.

‘Good morning, Sleeping Beauty. I hope I didn’t interrupt your beauty sleep.’

James was sitting on the bed, arms crossed on his chest. He looked much better, even if his skin was a bit paler than usually and his dark hair was just a dishevelled mass damp with sweat. Seb smiled slightly.

‘Sebastian, are you deaf or just stupid?’ Jim asked dryly, tilting his head a bit. Finally, after two long days of making sincere confessions, James was back to his old self. Sebastian had to admit that it was pleasant to hear a compliment or two, but hearing all those nice words falling from Jim’s lips was a bit creepy.

‘No, Jim, I’m listening,’ Seb said, still smiling.

‘Goood,’ Jim rolled his eyes, ‘then maybe make yourself useful and clean here,’ he wrinkled his nose, ‘This room is a pigsty. Seriously, Moran, I can’t leave you on your own even for a day without you creating havoc in my flat.’

Sebastian let out a huff of laughter.

‘It’s good to see you’re feeling better, Jim.’


	6. Clinical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seb thought loneliness in hospital is horrible but he was mistaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place during the first two years of Jim and Seb's business - they're both a bit inexperienced and believe they're invincible.

The sheets under his fingertips felt scratchy and a bit stiff and the whole room smelled of unnatural cleanness. Something was beeping and whirring quietly next to his head, the monotonous digital sound almost hypnotizing and drowning hushed voices and nervous padding.

Sebastian frowned; he felt strangely limp. His head was swimming, his thoughts slow and clouded. Taking a deep breath, Seb slowly opened his eyes only to squint immediately; the blinding whiteness surrendered him, swallowed him. He turned his head slightly, surprised by how heavy it felt. Beeping and whirring became louder and quicker. Somewhere the door slammed and the room filled with voices. Someone was bowing over him, but Sebastian didn’t care. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts fade away.

 

Rested on his pillows, Sebastian observed nurses and visitors walking up and down the corridor. After a few days he felt slightly better, although his head was still giving him hard time. When he finally came round, the doctor explained him everything: he was brought to hospital unconscious and with several stab wounds, the most dangerous one going between his ribs, barely missing a lung. He was lucky it only ended like this. And all this because of that stupid job Jim assigned him.

Sighing heavily, Seb turned his head away from the windows overlooking the corridor. He was really bored and a bit… lonely. Jim hadn’t visited him even once yet and, well… he felt a bit disappointed. They were friends and Sebastian would do that for him. Hell, he already did. Seb closed his eyes. Maybe they weren’t friends, after all. Not that he cared, not at all, but he was tired of all the nurses commenting quietly on how poor he was and lonely he must have felt. And he was going to spend here at least four more days. Just great.

With a groan, Sebastian pressed his face to the pillow. He just hoped he wouldn’t die of boredom before his discharge.

 

Seb finally reached the top of the staircase. He had to stop on the second storey to rest for a moment; two weeks in hospital took their toll on him and his ribcage was giving him hard time.

Fumbling in his pockets, he fished out his keys and quietly let himself in.

‘James?’ He asked, toeing off his shoes and moving to the living room. Something crashed against the floor and James’ dishevelled head peeked out from the kitchen.

‘Sebastian?’ He mumbled tiredly. He looked a bit worse to wear with tensed shoulders and dark circles under his eyes, but it was nothing unusual. Jim was probably working on something big or getting in contact with clients on the other side of the world. ‘You’re home already?’

‘Yeah,’ Seb shrugged. He didn’t feel like talking to Jim right now. ‘They said that shouldn’t overwork myself for the next week or so, but I don’t think it’s necessary,’ he added with another shrug. James looked at him strangely.

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah. I just have to sleep off a bit. I couldn’t get a good rest on this hospital bed. Do you mind?’ Sebastian gestured with his head at the corridor leading to the bedrooms. When Jim nodded, he grabbed his bag and went to his room.

 

Boredom was driving Sebastian up the wall. He had been home for over a week now, but, despite his assurance that he was feeling fine, James still didn’t give him any assignments. Restless, he tried to occupy himself by tracking down the men who put him in hospital, but it proved to be quite difficult. Seb sighed; he was going to need Jim’s help with that. This should be easy. Well, it _would_ be, if Jim wasn’t avoiding him.

After their brief encounter after Sebastian’s return, James locked himself up in his study. He was still there when the next morning Seb went to the kitchen to make himself coffee. At first, he thought that Jim was working and didn’t want to be disturbed, but after two more days he realized that something was off. Avoiding eye contact, snarling up in his explanations, giving contradicting answers - it was very not-Jim. And so was clanging with pots in the kitchen in the middle of the night.

Sebastian tried to be understanding, he really did, but the matter had to be addressed. So, the next time he caught Jim outside his office, he attacked.

‘Oh, hello, Sebastian,’ James babbled sheepishly, ‘I’ve made some coffee,’ he raised his mug, ‘There’s more in the kitchen so if you-’

‘Jim, stop it,’ Sebastian cut in, ‘Stop doing that.’

‘Doing what?’ Jim looked at him surprised.

‘Behaving like that. Shutting yourself in your office, avoiding eye contact,’ Seb sighed, ‘You’re angry with me, I get that, but this is-’

‘I’m not angry with you,’ James stated simply. He finally looked the other man in the eye. ‘I’m angry with myself.’

Sebastian blinked, surprised.

‘What?’

‘I’m angry with myself,’ Jim repeated, setting his mug on the kitchen surface ‘That’s why I didn’t visit you in the hospital and that’s why I keep avoiding you - not because I’m angry with you, but because I’m angry with _myself._ I put you in danger,’ he added, ‘I should have predicted that.’

‘Predicted what?’ Seb arched his brow. ‘That some blokes will catch me off-guard? Jim, no-one could have predicted that!’

‘ _I_ could.’

They stood in silence, staring at each other, when Jim spoke again.

‘Our personalities are compatible, we share some interests and tastes, you tolerate my behaviour including my mood swings and I even dare to say that you understand me to some extent-’

‘Thanks. I guess,’ Seb smirked. James glared at him angrily.

‘What I’m trying to say,’ he continued, ‘is that you’re the closest to a friend I’ve ever had. It’s a logical conclusion, then, that I don’t want you to get hurt. Do you understand?’ He added softly.

‘Yeah,’ Sebastian nodded, too surprised to think of something more eloquent.

‘Good,’ Jim grabbed his mug and turned on his heel to leave the kitchen.

‘Although,’ Seb smiled, ‘I think it was the most clinical way of telling someone you like them. Very you, though.’

James rolled his eyes and made his way to the living room. Sebastian followed him.

‘One more thing, Jim. What happened to those guys? I tried to track them down, but they vanished-’

‘Oh, that?’ Jim sat on the sofa and took a sip of his coffee, ‘Well, I took care of them. Personally,’ he added with a dangerous smile.


	7. Blur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are days when James finds everything unbearably exhausting.

‘It would be so easy,’ Jim mumbled to himself, glancing over the edge of the platform, ‘just one step and it all would be over.’

He contemplated the idea for a moment, observing passing trains with a stoic expression, until a sudden shove shook him out of his thought. A blonde woman in a hurry bumped into him, almost knocking him off his feet, and gave him a look he didn’t like.

‘Or I could just push her on the tracks,’ he murmured, his dark eyes fixed on the woman’s back until she disappeared in the crowd.

Blinking a few times, James looked around, quickly scanning his surroundings. He didn’t remember how he got to the train station, all his memories blurred into one whirl of colours and sounds. It was one of these days when his usually sharp and brilliant mind would betray him, twisting the reality into a confusing cluster of overwhelming images.

He took a few deep breaths, hoping it would help loosen this suffocating tightness in his chest. With shaky fingers he fished out his phone from the coat pocket and dialed the only number he could remember.

‘Yes?’ Sebastian picked up immediately; he sounded slightly annoyed and bored, but it was enough to calm Jim down a bit.

‘Seb...’ he breathed out, his voice weak and strained. There was a brief pause before Sebastian spoke again:

‘I’m coming, James. Just stay where you are, okay?’ Jim could hear jingling of keys and the thud of closing door.

‘Okay,’ he nodded, letting his arm fall alongside his body. He stared at the mobile clutched in his hand. Sebastian was coming for him.

 

Someone grabbed him by the shoulders and squeezed them delicately. James blinked, his eyes focusing on Seb’s worried face.

‘You found me,’ he whispered, a note of surprise in his tone.

‘Yeah,’ Sebastian smiled slightly, ‘Thanks to that little GPS device we put in your mobile phone, remember?’

Jim nodded. Of course he remembered that.

‘Good,’ Sebastian’s hands moved from his shoulders and rested on his hands, ‘Now, let’s get you on your feet and go home, hmm?’

James nodded one more time and allowed Seb to entangle their fingers and pull him on his feet.

‘I had the thoughts again,’ he murmured as they walked out the train station and to their car. Seb put his arm around Jim’s shoulders, silently encouraging him to continue. ‘I could just step over the edge and no one would even notice it. It would be over quickly.’

‘It would be so easy, you know, to kill a person on a train station. Just push them on the tracks under the train and watch as the life leaves their eyes,’ he continued when Sebastian opened car door for him.

‘That’s what you do, James,’ the blond said finally as he slid on the driver’s seat, ‘Have people killed,’ he started the car, ‘You will kill me too when I outlive my usefulness.’

Jim turned his head and looked at him, frowning.

‘I won’t,’ he argued. He didn’t like the sureness in Sebastian’s voice as if he was stating a fact. He wanted to convince Seb that he was wrong, that he would never hurt him, but the quiet voice at the back of his mind - the one Jim hated so much - told him that Seb was right to expect that. After all, he had disposed of numerous employees who were no longer needed. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Sebastian looked at him with a small smile.

‘Let’s get you home, shall we?’

 

His eyes snapped open, but all Jim could see was darkness. He blinked a few times, allowing his eyes to adjust and looked around: he was in his bedroom, but he didn’t remember coming here. Sebastian must have brought him here when he dozed off after the lunch. Or was that dinner? Frowning, he sat up on the bed and reached for his mobile phone - it was almost 2 a.m.

Sighing heavily, James fell back on his pillows and closed his eyes. He knew he should try to get some more sleep, but Sebastian’s words were still ringing if his ears: ‘You will kill me too when I outlive my usefulness’. Jim was sure that Seb knew he wasn’t just an ordinary, expendable employee. How could have he been so mistaken?

Sebastian was the only person he could trust with his empire and himself when one of these days came. He was a friend, their friendship being the only luxury James allowed himself afford in his line of work. He was a sense of stability and if Jim was to create his own language, Sebastian would be the word for safety. And yet Seb didn’t seem to see that.

Jim rolled out of bed, almost falling on his knees. He wasn’t going to leave this matter unsolved. He had to explain that to Sebastian, he really had to. Scrambling on his feet, he padded across the hall to Seb’s bedroom. He opened the door a little and peeked inside, but the bed was empty.

Leaving the door ajar, Jim slowly walked downstairs into the living room. Sebastian was sitting on the couch fast asleep, a few manilla folders laying in front of him on the coffee table. He must have been working, taking care of all the paperwork for Jim. Quietly, he moved across the room and kneeled on the floor next to the blond. He looked up at Seb’s face, noticing the dark circles under his eyes. It seemed… wrong to see him like this, falling asleep over the work he, James, should be doing. His chest heavy with too many confusing feelings, Jim pressed his cheek to Sebastian’s thigh, wrapping his arms around the man’s calf. He could feel Seb stir at the touch - he was always a light sleeper.

‘Jim?’ The voice is soft and slurred. ‘What are you doing here? You should be sleeping,’ warm fingers slid into his hair, stroking delicately. James closed his eyes - he knew Sebastian was looking at him and somehow he couldn’t bare that. He wanted to explain everything, but the words refused to form in his mind.

‘I won’t kill you,’ he managed to whisper and those four words exhausted him.

Sebastian sighed a long and tired sigh.

‘I upset you,’ it was more of a statement than a question.

‘I won’t kill you,’ Jim repeated, the words much easier to say this time.

‘I know,’ Seb’s hand moved from Jim’s head to his cheek, its warm presence calming him down, ‘I know. Now, let’s go back to bed. We both need some sleep.’

James nodded and moved away, letting go of Sebastian’s leg. The blond picked him up without difficulties and Jim snuggled up to him immediately. Without a word, Seb carried him upstairs. Curled up on his bed, Jim observed as the blond took off his jumper and slid under the covers next to him.

‘Don’t worry,’ the soft murmur filled his ears as Sebastian’s arms wrapped around him in a protective hug, ‘everything is going to be just alright.’


	8. A Starry-eyed Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian unearths a handful of painful memories. Will the two be ready to joke about the old good times?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was inspired by [this wonderful post by mortefere](http://mortefere.tumblr.com/post/102436279364/can-we-please-take-a-moment-to-imagine).
> 
> Also, the chapter contains flashbacks, so feel warned.

Yawning, James sat at the edge of his bed and stretched himself. He was feeling much better now, the world less blurry on the edges, his mind finally returning to its right state. He started even catching up with all the work Sebastian had been doing for him - he really would be lost without his sniper.

Dressed in a pair of soft cotton sweatpants and an old T-shirt, James padded downstairs. The pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled his nose and he followed it straight to the kitchen. Sebastian was already there, flipping through a small notebook and sipping his coffee; a few papers laid scattered on the kitchen surface in front of him.

‘Morning,’ Jim mumbled, his voice still a bit hoarse from sleep, as he made a beeline for the coffee maker.

‘Morning,’ Seb didn’t even glance at him, too engrossed in the notebook in his hands.

Humming to himself, Jim poured the dark liquid into a big mug, added a dash of milk and three teaspoons of sugar. He took a sip and smiled - a perfect mixture of sweetness and bitterness, just as he liked it. Warming his hands against his mug, he sat opposite Sebastian and took another sip. He glanced at the blond and his heart stopped for a moment.

‘Where did you get it?’ Jim asked, reaching out for the notebook, but Seb moved it out of his reach. ‘Sebastian,’ his growl only made the other man smirk.

‘In our storage room,’ he replied, ‘It’s quite an interesting read.’

‘Give it back,’ James requested, holding his hand palm-up expectantly. Still smirking, Sebastian handed him the notebook.

‘I didn’t know you took notes about all your stargazing sessions.’

‘I was eight,’ Jim hissed and flipped through the notebook as if to make sure that Seb didn’t damage it. He glanced quickly at the papers. ‘What are those?’

‘Letters,’ Sebastian’s eyes were glinting with mischievousness. He picked up one letter. ‘Listen,’ he cleared his throat, ‘“Dear James, thank you for your letter. I am very pleased to learn that a boy of your age-”’

‘Sebastian, you bloody arse!’ Jim jumped on his feet, the tips of his ears turning red.

‘“-has such a great interest in astronomy,”’ the blond continued, standing up, so James couldn’t snatch the letter from his hands, ‘“I would like to thank you for your comments on my article concerning the matter of supermassive black holes. I can assure you I will take them into consideration. Yours sincerely, John G. Borroughs, PhD.” Who’s John G. Borroughs, PhD? Your crush?’ He asked, lowering the letter and glancing at the other man.

‘An astrophysicist,’ Jim barked, collecting the letters and folding them neatly, ‘Didn’t your mother teach you it’s rude to read other people’s mail?’ He glared at Sebastian, his eyes dark with anger and annoyance. ‘And if you devoted as much attention to reading this letter as to making fun of me maybe then you would notice that I wrote it when I was 12. So no, he’s not my crush,’ pressing letters and the notebook to his chest, he headed to the living room.

Seb followed him, a grin still plastered to his face.

‘I didn’t know you were such an astronomy nerd when you were a kid.’

‘Did you even meet me, Sebastian?’ James shot him a glance over his shoulder. ‘Jim Moriarty, hi. I have a PhD in astrophysics.’

Seb smiled. He really liked pissing Jim off by asking stupid questions. As if he could forget the day when he met an excited, young physics student filled with genuine enthusiasm about his studies, who worked part-time in a coffee shop to save money for buying his own telescope.

It was really heartbreaking then, witnessing disillusionment and disappointment slowly filling James’ heart after every class which left his questions unanswered. Seb knew that his friend was smarter than everyone else and Jim’s developing bitterness was beginning to worry him. He just hoped that it wouldn’t escalate too much.

 

_Sebastian was in Iraq when Jim graduated (at the top of his class, of course). Fulfilling Lord Moran’s wish, he joined the army after his own graduation two years prior and spent most of the year outside the country. He and Jim exchanged numerous letters and phone calls and Seb noticed that he mentioned his classes and university life less and less. So he really was surprised when his mother called, her voice shaking with anger._

_‘They refused to give him money,’ she hissed the moment he picked up the phone._

_‘What you’re talking about, Mum?’_

_‘James, of course,’ she seemed surprised that he had to ask, ‘They refused to found his research because his theories supposedly “belong more to science-fiction than to science”, can you believe that? Your father and I were outraged.’_

_‘And James?’_

_‘He seemed… resigned, poor thing. I asked him to stay with us for the weekend, but he didn’t want to.’_

_Despite everything he heard, Sebastian smiled. Before he left he asked his parents to help Jim during his absence (not to ‘take care of Jim’ - Jim was perfectly capable of taking care of himself) and they agreed without hesitation. The Morans really liked James, especially Seb’s mother, who treated him like a son._

_A few days after the telephone call came a letter from Jim. He wrote about the graduation in this indifferent tone Seb was really beginning to hate._

As I will not get any funds for my research, _Jim informed him in his beautiful handwriting,_ I decided - or rather I am forced - to take a job as a professor here at the university. I guess it is the best I can do in these circumstances. At least I will have time to work on ‘The Dynamics of the Asteroid’

_It didn’t really convince Sebastian, but there was nothing he could do about it._

 

_Contrary to Seb’s expectations, <<The Dynamics of the Asteroid>> proved to be a great distraction for James. From all the snippets of information he found in the letters he got from his friend, the blond could piece together the whole picture. Most of James’ students simply did not care about the subject he taught, attending his classes only to get the credit. It didn’t seem to bother Jim that much, claiming that all of his students are morons anyway, but Sebastian didn’t miss the bitter tone. The fragments about writing the book, however, reminded him about the Jim he knew - a boy fascinated with the Universe with the eyes like stars._

_‘I’m going to publish <<The Dynamics>>,’ Jim stated proudly, ‘At least I intend to - I’m already putting aside some money. It’s nothing big, really, but soon enough I will have enough-’_

_‘Jim-’_

_‘Just imagine it, Seb! Finally I will be able to tell the world about my discoveries and find other people who think just like me and-’_

_‘Jim,’ Sebastian smiled to himself. It was nice to hear the excitement in Jim’s voice again._

_‘Yes?’_

_‘You don’t need to save money. We can give you as much as you need...’_

_‘Sebastian,’ James sighed, ‘you know I don’t need charity-’_

_‘I know,’ Seb nodded, ‘Treat it as a loan, okay?’_

 

_Hearing the door slam shut, Sebastian looked up from his book. He left the army three months after that conversation with James and returned to England. He spent a few weeks with his parents in their family manor, allowing his mother to coo over him, and then moving to Oxford to share a flat with Jim. It was… something new._

_Jim changed since Sebastian last saw him. It wasn’t anything big, really. Repeatable nose-twitching, almost like a tic; rapid, nervous finger movements; a slight change in the tone of voice. They were subtle changes, but Seb could feel that James was on the edge. So when he stormed into the room, panting as he disentangled himself from his coat, Sebastian knew that it was it, that Jim was finally done._

_‘No-one even bought it!’ James threw his bag on the floor, followed by his coat._

_‘Bought what?’_

_‘ <<The Dynamics!>>’ Jim’s chest was heaving ‘No-one even bought it, not to mention read it!’_

_Seb marked the page, closed the book and put it down, giving his friend time to calm down a bit. He stood up and approached James, delicately placing his hands on his shoulders._

_‘How do you know?’ He asked softly._

_‘I checked,’ Jim snapped, his voice a mixture of anger and disappointment._

_‘Jim, it hasn’t been out for that long-’_

_‘Seven months, Seb!’ James took a step back, freeing himself from Seb’s hands, ‘Seven months! It’s long enough, don’t you think?’_

_Sebastian sighed. When they published <<The Dynamics of the Asteroid>> (Was it really seven months ago?), James was ecstatic. He hoped that the book would be the way to present his findings to the scientific world and prove to his professors that his theories are really well thought through and grounded in science. Only it didn’t seem to work as planned._

_‘James-’_

_‘Don’t “James” me!’ Jim clenched his fists. ‘I’m just so fed up with, with all this. My students are idiots who don’t really care what I teach them. Hell, I’m sure some of them don’t even know what class they are attending!’_

_‘You’re exaggerating now,’ Seb arched his brow._

_‘I’m not,’ the other man hissed, ‘They are so painfully stupid. And don’t even get me started about my colleagues,’ he let out a heavy sigh, ‘I really start to think that leaving this job is the only acceptable solution for this situation...’_

_‘Then do it,’ Sebastian stated simply._

_Jim blinked quickly._

_‘What?’ He mumbled, surprised. ‘You’re not going to say “I’m not sure about it, James, you should think it through” or “I don’t think it’s a good idea, James”? Nothing?’_

_‘Would you like me to?’_

_‘No, but-’_

_‘You’re an intelligent man, Jim, you know what you’re doing,’ Seb shrugged, ‘If you don’t want to do something, only a complete moron would try to convince you otherwise,’ he added with a smile. ‘The only thing I can do is to support you no matter what decision you’re going to make.’_

_Jim smiled back._

_‘You’re right, Seb. Actually,’ his smile widened dangerously, ‘I already have an idea what I could do instead of teaching.’_

 

‘Where did you even find these?’ James asked, waving the letters before flopping on his armchair with a pout. Sebastian dragged all those memories up into the daylight to make fun of him. He felt offended and even a bit... hurt. He loved stars since he remembered. He would spend hours stargazing, the night sky over his village never polluted by the bright lights of the city. He would drive everyone mad with his questions about stars and universe, until his mother’s patient explanations and his father’s lectures weren’t enough and Jim began to look for answers elsewhere.

When he was 11 he knew he wanted to devote his life to studying the universe, so he was over the moon when he was admitted to Oxford. How disappointed he was when it turned out that even his professor didn’t know answer for some on his questions. He got stuck in that teaching job and now Sebastian was making fun of him. Just great. Good he didn’t know that Jim was still spending some nights stargazing.

‘I told you,’ Seb rolled his eyes, ‘in our storage room. I was looking for some old files, but instead I found the unmarked cardboard box filled with letters, old astronomy books and this little notebook. It seemed much more interesting than searching for some old documents’.

‘I’m glad that you have fun,’ with a huff Jim pulled his knees to his chest and lowered his head till his forehead was touching them. He knew he was being irrational and childish, but he couldn’t help it - this whole week was difficult enough without this. He heard Sebastian coming closer to him.

‘You know,’ he said, a hint of smile in his voice, ‘I actually bought _The Dynamics of the Asteroid_.’

James raised his head.

‘You did?’ He asked, blinking quickly in surprise.

‘Yeah, I even read it. Didn’t understand half of it, but it was still a good read. Don’t look at me like that,’ the blond chuckled, seeing Jim’s wide-eyed stare, ‘I’m not trying to make you feel better.’

‘But-’

‘James, you’re a genius and if they couldn’t see it, their loss. Actually,’ Seb’s smile widened, ‘I’m glad they didn’t, because I like working with you,’ he pressed his lips to Jim’s forehead, ‘Now,’ he straightened up, ‘I have to pop out for a moment to get some groceries. You want something?’ Jim shook his head. ‘I’ll be back in a second.’

When he came back, the box with papers disappeared from the kitchen and he could hear James moving around in his bedroom upstairs. Sebastian shook his head and smiling headed to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being absent for so long, but I had quite a lot to do over the past two weeks, but now I'm back to schedule.


	9. Late Merry Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seb and Jim celebrate Christmas in their own way, even if it's two days late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to wish you all a late Merry Christmas :*

Christmas was a really good time for business, James always said; apparently nothing reminded people better how much they hated their relatives than a prospect of spending a few days in their company. Not to mention that some of their associates thought that they would get away with screwing Moriarty over; after all it was the season of forgiveness and understanding. They couldn’t be more mistaken, though – James Moriarty never forgot and never forgave. That was why Sebastian had spent the last week and a half in Siberia playing hide and seek with a man who thought that double-crossing Moriarty was a good idea.

The job itself took longer than both of them expected. Sebastian was supposed to be back in London a few days before Christmas, but now it seemed that he would have to overstay his welcome. He was closing on his ‘prey’, as Moriarty humorously put it, when he received a message from Jim (Sebastian stopped to question what Jim did with his mobile phone so he got reception in the middle of fucking nowhere):

_Urgent matter. Have to leave London tonight. Will be back after Christmas._

Sebastian sighed, getting even angrier with the current situation. He didn’t like when Jim worked alone. Not because he couldn’t protect himself, no. Jim was much stronger than he looked and quite skilled with knives and Sebastian made sure that he knew how to put those skills in use. A few of their business associates learnt that the hard way when they were cheeky enough to take the advantage of Moriarty’s smaller posture. No, Seb was angry because James lacked self-preservation instinct and constantly ignored all the signs of danger; Jim’s short temper wasn’t particularly helpful, either. He just hoped that this ‘urgent matter’ didn’t involve meetings with potential clients in person or negotiations – covering up messes was the last thing they needed right now.

As twisted as it might seem, anger always motivated Seb best and, a day after receiving Jim’s text, he finally caught the man in some God forgotten village and kindly reminded him that stealing from one’s boss was a very naughty thing to do. Sebastian decided to leave him beaten and bruised without his clothes on mercy of the Siberian weather – the man believed in Christmas miracles so he should be given a chance to check if they really happen.

His plane landed on Heathrow on Christmas Eve. He slowly moved with the crowd, observing with disinterest people greeting and embracing their relatives and friends. The whole place seemed to be filled with cries of happiness and laughter. Seb left the terminal and lit a cigarette, smoke filling his lungs and washing the tension away. On board he decided to stay with his parents for a day or two. Their London flat was empty and cold and he really didn’t want to sit there all by himself. His mother would be probably more than happy to have him for Christmas and even his father, normally so aloof, would chat with him over a tumbler of whiskey. And he wouldn’t have to worry about food.

Crushing the stub with his foot, Sebastian got into the cab and gave the driver the address; he needed his car first. He leant against the backseat and looked up at the grey sky. London was gloomy at this time of a year and no amount of Christmas decorations would make it look more inviting. Most people were way too busy shopping to notice them anyway.

Seb himself would describe his attitude to Christmas as indifferent. He wasn’t religious and found celebrating tradition for the sake of celebrating tradition itself pointless and stupid. It was laughable, really, that people needed an excuse to be ‘good’ and ‘understanding’. If Sebastian didn’t work side by side with the consulting criminal, maybe he would believe in it.

He reached Moran’s mansion before it got dark. He parked on the driveway and got out from the car, stopping for a moment to observe silhouettes moving against the brightly lit windows, before ringing the doorbell. He was greeted by Stevens, family’s house master, and led to the living room where his parents were having their afternoon tea. From that moment on everything went as he predicted it would: his mother hugged him tightly and ordered Stevens to prepare Seb’s bedroom as Sebastian and his father shook hands.

He didn’t stay long, though. Tired of his father’s political tirades and his mother’s babbling about suitable bachelorettes he could marry, Seb left shortly after Christmas dinner, carrying a gigantic bag filled with Christmas food prepared by the cook, Mrs Brown. At least he wasn’t going to die of starvation as the fridge in their flat was probably empty.

 

Sebastian let himself into the flat and immediately closed the door. The whole place was dark and silent, just as he had expected. Not bothering to turn on the lights, he toed off his shoes and carried the bags to the kitchen. He put the food into the fridge (empty – as expected) and put on the kettle. He moved to the bathroom next and threw all his clothes into the hamper – the laundry could wait. Yawning, Sebastian returned to the hall to hang his coat and finally switched on the lights.

In the corner of the living room stood a small Christmas tree, decorated only with two strings of white Christmas lights and a few glass ornaments. The mantelpiece was adorned with a small holly wrath with three red candles. Colourful fairy lights were wrapped around the handrail, glistening like some exotic flowers. A bit surprised, Sebastian walked to the Christmas tree. He didn’t expect that Jim would participate in celebrating Christmas; his Catholic upbringing was a distant memory and there were times Seb thought that astronomy was James’ only religion. He inspected the glass ornaments and smiled –[ they represented the Solar System: Saturn even had its rings and sunspots on the Sun were clearly visible](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00ODQN7I4/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00ODQN7I4&linkCode=as2&tag=bkgas-20&linkId=EW3F64SOEH656IU4); small white lights blinking among the branches looked like the distant stars. So astronomy it was. There was one more thing about the tree, though.

Underneath its branches there was a plain red cardboard box – no fancy wrapping paper, no bow, no tag, nothing. Knowing Jim it could be anything, from an empty box (as simple as that), through a bomb prototype to a severed human head. Sebastian sniffed; the box didn’t smell of putrefaction or formaldehyde so he could rule the human head out. Carefully, he removed the lid and peeked into the box. It was filled with... books. Two piles of neatly stacked volumes bound in dark brown leather. Frowning, Seb picked one of the books and flipped through it: it was the first edition of _Pride and Prejudice_. He was so preoccupied with the book that he almost missed a small note that must have fallen from between the pages. His frown deepening, he picked up the note and read it.

**_Didn’t your mother teach you it’s dangerous to open mysterious boxes? What if there was a bomb in it, Moron? – Jim. Ps.: Those are for you, Sebastian. Merry Christmas XX_ **

‘James, you silly bugger,’ Sebastian huffed a laugh and tucked the note into his pocket before unpacking his gift. He quickly glanced at the titles: _Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, Jane Eyre, Emma, Agnes Grey, Sense and Sensibility, Mansfield Park, Tess of the d’Urbervilles,_ _The Old Curiosity Shop, Bleak House, The Mill on the Floss, Middlemarch_... Austen, the Brontë sisters, Hardy, Dickens, Elliot – all Seb’s favourites. There was even a small volume of Keats’ poetry and a collection of Darwin’s essays. Sebastian returned to _Pride and Prejudice_ : yellowish paper was thicker than he expected and slightly coarse to the touch. It smelled like a mixture of old wood and spices, reminding him of the library back at the family mansion. Smiling, he got up at his feet and, still holding the book in his hand, went to the kitchen to make himself some tea. He knew what he was going to do with the rest of the holidays.

 

Sebastian didn’t even leave the house on Boxing Day, coursing between the kitchen and the living room. He lit a fire in the fireplace and sprawled himself on the couch with one of his “new” books, a cup of tea and a plate full of gingerbread cookies. Listening to the crackling fire, he followed Miss Bennet all over England, drying five cups of tea and finishing the whole plate of cookies. It was a nice, pleasant day, but he felt a bit lonely. At times like this, when one of them was away for a job, Seb really wished they had a pet living with them – a cat or maybe even a dog. At least there would be someone to talk to. Maybe he should talk with Jim about that?

 

27 December passed almost as lazily as the previous day. Sebastian had almost finished _Pride and Prejudice_ , when he heard a metallic clink of the lock followed by the thud of closing door. Jim. Sebastian didn’t move from his spot on the couch, though; he didn’t even look up. He knew perfectly well that James needed some time to adjust to a new place, even if this place was his own flat – acclimatisation he called it – and hated when someone or something disturbed that process. So Seb waited, listening to Jim walking around the flat, clinking with dishes and cutlery in the kitchen and splashing the water as he washed his hands. Finally, the couch dipped and James curled against Sebastian’s chest. Seb glanced at him and smiled – Jim was wearing a dark blue Christmas jumper with white reindeer and pine trees, a gift from Sebastian’s mother.

‘Didn’t take you for a Christmas type,’ the blond turned a page, his eyes returning to the book.

‘Did you think I’m a Grinch?’ Jim’s voice was soft. He shifted slightly, so he could see what Sebastian was reading. ‘I guess you like your gift, then. What are you reading?’

‘ _Pride and Prejudice_.’

James wrinkled his nose.

‘I don’t like Austen.’

‘Well, you shouldn’t have bought it then, should you?’ Sebastian smirked. ‘Oh, and by the way, thank you. I have to admit, though, that I’m surprised you didn’t give something work-related.’

Jim looked at him.

‘Would you like that?’ He asked.

‘No,’ Seb shook his head, ‘I was just-‘

‘Seb,’ James sighed, ‘why should I give you for Christmas something which I’m going to give you anyway as it’s a tool of your trade? Christmas gifts should be something the receiver would enjoy,’ he finished, shrugging his shoulders.

‘In that case you should check your study,’ Sebastian returned to the book, ‘I think you might have missed something.’

James furrowed his brows in confusion.

‘I’m sure I didn’t miss anything.’

‘If you say so...’ the blond turned another page. Jim observed him for a moment before he scrambled on his feet and headed to his study, mumbling something under his nose. When he returned five minutes later, he was smirking.

‘Where did you get it?’ He asked, reclaiming his spot between Seb’s legs.

‘What do you mean?’ Sebastian tried to sound innocent, but was miserably failing at it.

‘You know exactly what I mean,’ Jim slapped the blond’s arm, ‘I’m serious, Seb. There are only 276 copies of the first edition of [_De rovolutionibus_](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/De_revolutionibus_orbium_coelestium) and one of them is in my study. I just want to know how it got there.’

Sebastian sighed and closed his book.

 ‘Do you like it?’ He looked at James.

‘Yes,’ Jim nodded, ‘but I just want-’

‘Then enjoy it. You have your connections, I have mine,’ the blond stated simply and opened the book, ‘Now, let me finish reading this, okay?’

Jim smiled broadly and nodded. He snuggled up closer to Seb and pressed his head to the other man’s chest.

‘Merry Christmas, Seb.’

‘Merry Christmas, Jim.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jim's glass ornaments: [click](http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00ODQN7I4/ref=as_li_tl?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=390957&creativeASIN=B00ODQN7I4&linkCode=as2&tag=bkgas-20&linkId=EW3F64SOEH656IU4)
> 
> The book Seb got for Jim: [click](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/De_revolutionibus_orbium_coelestium)


	10. Expensive and Harmless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jim is generous, Seb gets suspicious.

‘I wouldn’t drink from that cup if I were you,’ James said when Sebastian reached for a beautiful filigree cup. Seb looked up. Jim’s back was turned to him, the man humming as he prepared himself a midday snack.

‘Why not?’ The blond asked, picking up the cup and rolling it in his fingers. It was made from delicate china decorated with thin arabesques painted in gold. It seemed expensive and harmless.

‘Because,’ holding a plate filled with sliced fruit, Jim turned and sat opposite Sebastian, ‘it is a gift, Sebastian.’ He bit on a slice of apple.

‘From whom?’ Seb arched his brow and put the cup down.

‘Not from - for. A client of mine,’ James corrected, sipping his tea.

‘A gift for a client? From you?’ Jim nodded. Sebastian crossed his arms. ‘Okay, what’s wrong with it?’

Jim glanced at him over the rim of his mug.

‘Why would there be anything wrong with it?’ He asked, feigning innocence.

‘Honestly, James,’ Sebastian sighed. ‘A _gift_ for a _client?’_  

The smaller man smiled slyly.

‘I may or may have not laced it with poison,’ he admitted with a shrug.

‘Jesus, James,’ the blond smiled, shaking his head, ‘you’re a Graham bloody Young now?’

The comment made Jim laugh, a unique mixture of high-pitched giggles and snorts.

‘Seriously, Sebastian? Do you think I would be stupid enough to blab everything to the police, just because they rubbed me the right way and told me I was a genius? Really?’ He added, putting a half of strawberry into his mouth.

‘Not sure.’ Seb shrugged, playing it cool. ‘You _are_ pretty vain, aren’t you?’

James scowled and threw a grape at Sebastian, hitting him in the forehead.

‘Instead of being such a smart mouth,’ he stated dryly as he stood up and picked up his plate, ‘you could make yourself useful, Sebastian, and prepare our little gift. Put the cup with the rest of the set, wrap it nicely and address. I will be in my office, if you need me,’ he ordered and marched out of the kitchen before Seb could mumble ‘Yes, sir.’

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Graham Young was an English poisoner. When he was a teenager, he 'tested' different poisons on his family and friends, killing his step-mother. At the age of only fifteen, he was the youngest inmate sent to Broadmoor.


	11. Ready and Prepared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seb likes to be prepared and it pays off... kinda

James hit the stone wall so hard, the force of the impact knocking the wind out of him. He opened his mouth to complain about such a harsh treatment, but, before he managed to say something, Sebastian pressed his hand to Jim’s lips. They were in a narrow alley, pressed close against each other.

‘Be quiet,’ Seb leant forward and whispered into the other man’s ear. ‘We have a tail.’

James nodded in acknowledgement.

‘How many?’ He mouthed when Sebastian removed his hand.

Seb listened for a moment before murmuring:

‘At least four. You have your knife with you?’ He added after a brief pause. Jim nodded. ‘Good. We will do 78, okay?’

James nodded and slipped his hand into the pocket of his trousers where he kept his switchblade. He and Seb had numerous scenarios planned for such situations, just in case as Sebastian put it. Jim scowled at the whole idea, firmly believing in their invincibility, but Seb didn’t give up, murmuring something about ‘big-headed Irish pricks’ and ‘doing his job right’. In the end, it turned out for the best as ‘just in case’ situations happened to them surprisingly often.

Seb stepped back from the wall and rolled his shoulders. He looked relaxed or even laid-back, but Jim knew him long enough to notice muscles tightening around his eyes and a small crease on the blond’s forehead which spoke of heightened alertness. He observed as Sebastian reached the mouth of the alley and casually lit a cigarette as he scanned the street. When the blond slightly tilted his head to the left (the sign that the coast was free), Jim stepped out of the shadows onto the main street, Sebastian following right behind him.

 

It was a mess. Jim could feel the skin around his eye swelling as he slowly dragged unconscious Sebastian away from the four bodies. It started innocently or at least as innocently as a bloody brawl could start. As they walked away from the alley, Jim noticed the two men standing on the corner of the street, chatting in low whispers. He threw a quick glance at Seb and tightened his grip on the switchblade in his pocket. They had almost passed the two men when, in the corner of his eye, Jim registered a sudden movement. Before he could react, though, Sebastian had already knocked the one out with his brass knuckles and was beating a shit out of the second man. Out of nowhere, the next two men appeared, but Jim was faster. As the blade of his knife reflecting a dim light of a distant streetlamp, he could see in their eyes that they didn’t expect a man of his posture to react so quickly. A gurgling sound, followed by a thud of bodies hitting the pavement was enough of a confirmation for James.

‘You alright?’ Straightening his back, Sebastian threw him a quick glance.

Jim flashed him a toothy smile.

‘Let’s go,’ he pushed his hands into his trousers pockets. ‘I don’t want to ruin my shoes.’

Seb barked with laughter.

‘It’s always about your-’

‘Seb!’ Jim yelped, but it was too late - the man had already rendered Sebastian unconscious with a single well-aimed blow and now swung his fist right at Jim’s eye.

 

Sebastian’s eyes fluttered open, but the light, too bright after all the darkness, blinded him for a moment. He blinked quickly several times, his vision finally coming in focus. The memories flooded him.

‘Jim,’ he mumbled, trying to sit up, but pain spiked through his brain.

‘You shouldn’t get up, you know,’ Jim’s voice was coming somewhere from his left. ‘You may be concussed,’ his face finally appeared in Sebastian’s vision. He had a black eye, skin slightly swollen around the socket.

‘What happened?’ Frowning, Seb reached out, delicately brushing his fingers over the bruise around Jim’s eye.

‘One of them regained consciousness, knocked you out and took a swing at me.’ James shrugged. ‘I dealt with it, so no biggie.’

‘I wouldn’t say that a black eye is no biggie, James.’

Jim let out a heavy sigh.

‘Seb...’

‘I would kill them again for that,’ Seb stated simply.

‘Well,’ Jim gave him a small smile, ‘it’s a shame, then, that it’s not possible.’

 

 


End file.
